Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Thailand and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Lalann to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Dark Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ken Boothe,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Harpers Bizarre,
Faust,
Q65,
Symarip,
Ultra Naté,
Alton Ellis,
Rites of Spring,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Nas,
Roger Hodgson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Eden Ahbez,
The Seeds,
Dead Boys,
Sexual Harrassment,
Barrington Levy,
The Cowsills,
Wire,
Lungfish,
The Dead C,
Traffic Nightmare,
Aswad,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Peter & Gordon,
The Fall,
Mad Mike,
June Days,
Marvin Gaye,
Depeche Mode,
The Young Rascals,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Doors,
Lalo Schifrin,
Fugazi,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Chrome,
Rosa Yemen,
Bill Wells,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
ABC,
Soft Machine,
Judy Mowatt,
Darondo,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Popol Vuh,
The Last Poets,
Maleditus Sound,
Sandy B,
Joey Negro,
Rapeman,
Boredoms,
Shuggie Otis,
Godley & Creme,
Zapp,
Electric Prunes,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.